Unforeseen Betrothal
by historicpuckleberryfreak
Summary: What would happen if it was more than 900 years back? And Rachel was the lady of London, and when she wants to marry yet again, she asks a dear friend, Lord Noah his opinion, they are caught in a storm and something blooms between them? Would their desires be fulfilled?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm trying to write stories! Lol, this is an complete AU, and is based off a story line that I read years ago. I hope you like this and pleeease tell me what you think! I hope its not all too bad... Please review!**

_Prolouge..._

_London winter, early 1075._

...

Lady Rachel requests that Lord Noah of

Montevoy come to her at Gunlinghorn...

Lord Noah sighed as the messenger, an earnest young man in baggy breaches, carried on in a piping voice._..come to her at Gunlinghorn as soon as his duties at court will allow him._

It was not that Lord Noah did not want to come to Lady Rachel, he thought as he sent the messenger off for refreshment. He had known Lady Rachel forever, and he was very fond of her. She had once been wed to the king's cousing and was now a widow.

Even if the king had not favored her, that marriage had made her important. No, it was not that Lord Noah did not want to visit Lady Rachel. It was just that, at this particular moment, he had other things on his mind.

King Schuester was not currently in residence at court in London; he was across the channel, dealing with rebels in Le Maine and attending to his affairs in Normandy. But manu of the great men of England were there.

There was intrigue a foot, stirrings among the barons, jostlings for more land and more power. Greed had awoken, lifting its head and casting a glance about to see who was watching.

Lord Noah did not like the tension he felt in the air these days.

It was not just the thought of leaving this simmering pot unattended that concerned Noah. He told himself he had always preferred to be in the thick of things, to know what was going on and with whom, to use his intelligence to untangle the problems of the realm.

Noah had never been much for one for the isolation of the country, and Gunlinghorn was four days' ride to the southwest.

And, of course, he enjoyed partaking of civilized pursuits. More particularly, good conversation, fine wine and beautiful women. With his good looks and and a perfect body, Lord Noah was often called the most handsome man in England.

Noah had always treated the title with good humor-especially now, at the age of 24. His handsome face hid a keen mind, and any man who at first glance dismissed him as just a face was soon put aright.

Noah was an integral part of King Schuester's council, and as such the powerful barons saw him either as a shrewd friend to look to in times of trouble, or a man to be wary of if they were involved in anything detrimental to the king.

The woman saw him differently. Noah was also famous as a lover, and few ladies could resist so handsome a trophy to show off to their friends.

Rachel was the only woman he'd ever known who was unaffected by his handsome face. She didn't see him as a pretty trophy, or a shrewd adversary.

That was one of the reasons Noah liked her, and why he felt so at ease with her. He could be himself with her, he could be _Noah._

If he remembered rightly, the last time he had visited her, she had sent him home with an indulgent smile and with the astonishment to be good. Noah had laughed and kissed her fingeers, then left her without a backward glance.

Had he been "good"? In his way, he supposed he had, but Noah knew he had done things that Rachel would quibble over. What did she expect? She looked upon him almost as if her were a troublesome mortal and she a goddess on high: a man struggling to rise to the dizzy heights she expected of him and yet never quite reaching them.

Still, she accepted his faults. She accepted _him._

Such a friend, be they man or woman, was truly a rarity. Noah sighed again. Of course, he would have to go to her. Rachel would not have asked if she had not needed to see him, and if he left at dawn tomorrow he could be in Gunlinghorn in four days, assuming the weather held.

That would give him a few hours to tie up any business he had at the court-his trusted second in command, Sam, could keep an eye on matters and report to him if or when it became necessary. That would leave this evening free for Noah to visit his current mistress, Santana.

He could not expect to find someone like Santana at Gunlinghorn, nor would he feel comfortable preying upon Rachel's women. She was always, to his mind, overly strict when it came to visiting lords defiling her ladies-especially when some of those ladies seemed most eager to be defiled.

He turned the message over in his mind. It was a strange relationship, the one between Rachel and himslef, and yet it was a comfortable one. She had loved her husband, Finn, and had been grieving for him now for two years. When Finn died, Noah recalled, the glow left Rachel's big chocolate eyes. As if night had come to her soul.

Their son must be five years old. Noah tried to remember what he looked like and could not;beyond a pat on the head and a vague greeting, Noah never took much notice of the boy. In truth, children were of little interest to him;there was no place for them in his life. And as for having any children of his own...

Noah shuddered. He did not want the responsibility. Not after what had happened to him when he was a boy.

Shrugging off his dark thoughts, Noah let himself wonder what Rachel could want of him that required his swift attendance upon her. Was her son ill? Was she ill? But she would have said so, surely?

Perhaps she needed his advice? But no, Noah smiled mockingly at his own thoughts, to Rachel he was and had always been Noah, whom she treated with a combination of amusement and indulgence and irritation, but never took too seriously.

That wasn't strictly true, Noah chastised himself. When he gave Rachel advice on important matters, matters to do with land and the running and defense of her manor, she usually took it-she had always trusted him to know the best paths to follow in the murky waters of King Schuester's England. But once, when he had tried to tell her that a red gown suited her better than a yellow one, she had laughed until she'd cried.

"Are you a lady's maid now, Noah?" She had asked him at last, he brown eyes brimming. "Maybe I should ask you for reports from the court as to what is in fashion. Maybe you will wear a likeness of the latest headwear for me." And she was off again, bubbling with mirth.

Noah had tried not to take offence. They had known each other since they were children, and to Rachel he would always be that boy who followed her about, who was to be tolerated in a fond sort of way.

He found her attitude frustrating, but at the same time oddly comforting. Rachel was not like other women, and he had never treated her so.

"Jesse!" He called suddenly.

"Yes my lord?" Jesse, come last year from Lord Micheal's household to serve Lord Noah., looked up from where he was slumbering by the fire. At the moment he had the appearance of a large, dishelved hound, his deceptively sleepy dark eyes fixed on Noah. But Noah knew Jesse was far from being the idle man he looked.

"We will go south to Gunlinghorn at first light tomorrow. Prepare, will you? I do not expect our stay to be a long one."

"Who is at Gunlinghorn, my lord?"

Noah smiled." An old friend," he said. And realized that he was looking forward to this journey, after all. It had been too long since he had last seen Rachel. Far too long.

**A/N: I know it's short, but it's the prolouge, and the next one will be up tomorrow! It will be much, much longer, I really hoped you like this, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:I hope this makes up for the previous chapter! And that this was worth the wait, please lemme know what you guys think!**

Chapter 1.

...

The weather had not been altogether bad. South beyond London, the forest of Anderida had enclosed them like a green ocean, but Noah had arranged for a guide to lead them through its timbered vastness. Snow had fallen, but not heavily, and not enough to slow down his troop of men.

Noah, huddled in his thick, fur-lined cloak, had thought wistfully of Santana, her long dark hair covering her dark skin of her back as last evening she'd poured him wine from a jug. Her movements had been graceful and languid, and as she had turned to him, she had smiled. She had made a tasty picture, dressed only in her dark locks.

He did not love her, any more than she loved him. Their relationship was of convenience, and love was not something that was part of the contract between them. For Noah, women like Santana were a necessity-a necessary pleasure. If she was not the greatest conversationalist, and her intelligence was shrewd rather than deep, what did it matter, when she more than satisfied him in bed?

And as for Santana, the daughter of an ambitious minor noble, she was more than happy with her comfortable rooms and fine clothes and jewels.

"I have to leave tomorrow," he had told her, sipping the wine.

She had blinked. "Go where my lord?"

"To the Downs in the southwest, Santana. To Gunlinghorn."

Her eyes had widened. "Oh, my lord, I would not like to go outside London! There are savages in the countryside!"

Noah had grinned."Then it is as well you are not going, Santana. You will stay here until I return."

She had been relieved, Noah thought now with wry humor. Santana had had no desire to share the perils of Noah's journey. She liked him, or at least she liked the luxuries he could afford to give her, but that was as far as it went. She was glad he was going alone.

Why were women so fickle? They couldn't wait to get into bed with him, but none of them sobbed more than a few false tears when it was time to part. Was it something to do with him? Did he not please them in some way? Noah knew that wasn't so-his women were always well pleased.

When their relationship had run its course, and they left, they nearly always took with them a mutual fondness. Noah had lately begun to understand that something was missing. But what?

As clever and handosme as he was reported to be, Noah did not know. In younger days he hadn't felt the need to dwell on such puzzling and incomprehensible matters. Then all he wanted was a lusty woman in his bed.

Somewhere, somehow Noah felt lonely..._love?_

In his heart, Noah held a dark fear. Love would mean sharing all his secrets with another person and trusting them to understand. It would mean giving more of himself than he was prepared, or perhaps able, to give.

Noah had been more or less orphaned at the age of five, and at thirteen he had been a man well and truly. He did not look at love as a reason to surivive.

_What does it matter if I haven't found my soulmate? _He asked himself angrily. He had what other men envied. He was well favored in looks and fortune, he had the king's ear and any woman he wanted. It was no boast, but honest truth. Women never turned Lord Noah down.

_Love!_

He had no time for love;it was least of his concerns. He admitted to himself that that was why he preferred the lighter intimacies of women like Santana;it was less trouble. It was safer.

Noah and his troop of men rode on, into the wintry forest, through the fertile Weald and onto the windswept Down. Here the Gunlinghorn River was born in the chalk downs and grew wide and strong, leading then into the Vale of Gunlinghorn. Winter rains had turned ponds into small lakes, and the water meadows were full of life despite the weather. Noah watched a long-legged waterbird fly low across the gray surface, momentarily surrounded by a flock of smaller linnets.

Gunlinghorn had always been plentiful in its harvests of both land and water.

Before the Normans came, life here had been fortunate, bountiful, and under Lady Rachel little had changed. In that regard, Gunlinghorn was truly a small slice of Eden.

The castle stood up upon a tall hill, overlooking the Vale. From the highest point of the keep, one could look out over the cliffs on the coast of England, to the very sea the Normans had sailed across to make their conquest.

The keep itself was contructed of timber cut from the woods surrounding the Vale of Gunlinghorn. The strong wooden ramparts encircling the keep were currently being remade in local stone, with the grim-looking gate house already completed.

Rachel was ferocious when it suggested stone the last time he'd been here. Now, seeing with his own eyes that she had taken his advice, he felt an unexpected rush of pleasure.

Gunlinghorn's heavy gates opened easily to his name. Noah led his men into bailey, casting an eye over the busy castlefol, and nodding in reply to the many cries of welcome. He was known here. Liked, too, he thought. It was almost like coming home.

With an odd catch in his chest, Noah realized that Gunlinghorn was probably the nearest thing to family and a home that he had ever had.

In the great hall, several servants bowed low, their voices hushed to murmurs. Noah hardly noticed them. The warmth and welcome of Gunlinghorn embraced him, laced with the aroma of roasting meat from the kitcken. Noah felt himself beging to relax, the tensions easing out of his shoulders like loosening knots. He never relaxed in London- it was neither safe or prudent to do so.

And yet now, at Gunlinghorn, the need to be constantly watchful was being replaced by a sense of well-being.

Noah could not shelp himself: he smiled. Making his way to the roaring fire, he accepted mulled wine from one of Rachel's servants. He gulped it down, feeling instant warmth spearing through his chilled body, and then set about stripping off his heavy gloves and stamping snow from his boots. Several castle dogs snuffled about him with friednly curiosity.

"Noah!"

Her familiar voice rose above the bustle. Noah did not realize. How muxh he had missed her until he heard it. Or how the sight of her warmed his heart, he thought as he turned.

Lady Rachel was coming toward him. Her moss green gown and the hem of her creamy chemise swirled elegantly about her legs, while a jewel-decorated, golden girdle rested low upon her hips. Rings sparkled upon her elegant fingers, and her silken white veil drifted about her head and shoulders. Even from the far end of the hall, Noah could see the smile glowing in her brown eyes.

Surprised, Noah wondered why he had never noticed that her skin was as creamy and as smooth as milk. And he knew the brown hair beneath her veil to be lush and curling, perfect for a man to tangle his fingers through. Her eyes, a haunting deep brown, were set withing long dark lashes and topped by slim, arching brows. Such eyes...they were really quite remarkable.

Would they darken with passion when she was in the arms of a man? With her wealth there must have been many suitos hoping to win her approval. And not just because of her riches, either. Rachel was an extremely good looking woman.

Although he had known many beautiful woman, Noah realized there was something about Rachel...something unique, something he had never noticed until now.

"I did not expect you so soon," Rachel said.

"I did not think it worth sending your messenger with a warning I was on my way-I would have arrived before him."

She gripped his hand firmy with her own cool fingers and smiled straight into his eyes. For a moment, a single moment, he felt as if she had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. And then Noah blinked and shook ogg his strange abstraction. He raised her fingers to his lips, enjoying the scent and taste of her, surprising himself yet again. When he looked up there was a twinkle in her brown eyes.

"I thought that you might be otherwise occupied at court, Noah. Too busy with your intrigues to get away."

"Nothing could ever be as important as your wished Rachel," he said blandly, and for once he meant it.

She laughed, Rachel never took his compliments seriously, Rachel thought irritably, but in another moment her was smiling at his own foolishness. This was Rachel, after all. Why should it suddenly matter to him whether she believed his compliments or not?

"You are looking well," he said.

"I am well." She replied. "Comen Noah, and sit with me a moment. As soon as my sentries came to tell me they had seen you, I told the cook to prepare food, and I know you will want a hot bath, so there will be one waiting, when you are ready for it. You see, we are not complete barbarians."

"I am pleased to hear it."

She pulled a face at him and turned away. Noah followed her. Her skirts swayed gently as she walked, and the line of her back was straight and graceful. The sight of her was to be enjoyed, but Noah told himself that what he really enjoyed about it was that he felt absolutely no desire. None at all, he insisted to himslef.

There was no urgency to bed her, and to make her his. It was actually quite restful. He had not fully appreciated it before, but being with Rachel was really very soothing.

Rachel led him to an alcove, partially hidden behind an embroidered screen. Gracefully, she sat down, arranging her skirts about her, and Noah sat beside her, smiling as he watched her fuss. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes. What had she done that she could not tell her oldest friend?

"You sent for me and here I am. Now, tell me, Rach," he said with a slight impatience."What is it?"

She looked up, and her green eyes shone with both excitement and trepidation. "Noah, I am thinking to marry again."

Noah stared. For such a practised lordling who was never at a loss for a quip or a joke, he suddenly founf himself with nothing to say. And worse, inside his chest a mixture of very intense emotions writhed like serpents.

Was one of them dread? But why would he feel this? And was another disappointment? Now it occurred Noah to wonder why he was so surprised by her news. She had loved Finn, but he had been dead two years, and there must have been many ambitious barons who had set their sights upon her since.

True, she had told Noah soon after Finn had died that she did not intend to wed again, and because of her kindship with the king, it had been possible for her to honor her vow. The king's fondness for her had worked in her favor, and Rachel had remained a widow, ruling her own lands, doing just as she'd wished. Indeed, thought Noah with an inner smile, when had he ever known Rachel to do otherwise?

Noah tried to clear his thoughts, tried to shurg off the strange mood that had come upon his normally cold and rational self. Mabe he was just concerned for her wellbeing? That must be it, he thought with relief, as he looked at her.

Rachel was frowning at him, a tiny wrinkle between her arching brows. "You do not seem overjoyed, Noah," she said with a bite to her tone. "And I have not even told you his name. This does not bode well,does it, for your attendance at my bride ale?"

Noah managed to laugh, though it took more effort than he would have believed possible.

"I am sorry, Rachel, but it was a shock...a surprise. I had no idea...you have been a widow so long, I am used to your single state. I did not realize you wanted to alter it. Who is the fortunate man?"

"I have not decided to tell him yet, but the man is Henry."

Noah kept the smile on his face through sheer strength of willpower. Rachel gave him a sharp, searching glance but seemed satisfied with what she saw. Relaxing a little, her cheeks faintly flushed, she proceeded to tell him about her chosen husband.

But Noah wasn't listening. He did not need to hear anything about Lord Henry. Noah knew him. Twice Rachel's age, warstruck and truculent, how could such a man attract the attention of the Lady Rachel, let alone her affection? For there was affection in her voice.

It was beyond his comprehension.

"'Tis all very well, sweeting," he said patiently, interrupting the flow of her lilting voice, "but isn't he a little _old _for you?"

Rachel stopped, blinked and stared. And then she laughed aloud. "Oh Noah, you fool! No, no, not the father! I am thinking to marry the son. Martin. He is not too old for me, in fact he is younger than me, and very aimiable. I am certain we will get on very well together."

"You mean he will never forbear you anything you ask for, and you will boss him aboout unmercifully," he retorted.

Rachel had the grace to look a little ashamed."Well, maybe. But I would not want a man who would rule me, Noah. I am to used to my own way, and more so now, when I have run Gunlinghorn for so long, alone. I fear I would not take kindly to interference."

That last sounded like a warning. Had she asked him here because she wanted him to say yes to everything she asked of him? Well, he thought with a sudden spurt of anger, he'd be damned if he'd come all this way just to faltter her.

"My sweet Rachel," Noah began, careful to sound as friendly and helpful as he could. " I do not mean to critisize, but to marry with the expectation of treating your husband like one of your serfs does not bode well for your future happiness."

Rachel smiled coolly and narrowed her intriguing eyes. "And of course you are all knowledgeable when it comes to marriage, Noah."

"No, you know I am not, but I have witnessed many others falter, or end in misery."

"Noah, I do not marry for love," she explained to him in a patient voice. "I honestly do not expect to find anything more than a companionship, and if I wed a man who bows to all my wishes, I will certainly be the happier for that."

But Rachel deserved so much more, Noah thought, and felt sadness for her sake. She seemed to believe herself unworthy of genuine happiness. Unworthy of the sort of love that Noah's friends had discovered. Perhaps, he thought, she didn't know such a love was possible?

Perhaps, like Noah, she had never experienced it? But no, that could not be, for she had loved Finn, or at least the man she imagined Finn to be. Noah had made very sure that she never learned the sordid truth about Finn, and he believed he succeeded-after all, Rachel had sworn not to remarry when her husband died.

So what changed her mind?

He opened his mouth to ask her and then stopped himself. It was not his business. He was here to give Rachel practical advice, not to take on the role of bridegroom finder. She would laugh at him, or mock him, and deservedly so. Rachel, he reminded himself firmly, was a clever and intelligent woman.

She knew what she wanted, and if she wanted yound Henry for her husband, who was Noah to deny her her heart's desire?

_And perhaps it is her heart's desire. Perhaps, despite her protestations, she has fallen in love with him._

The thought slipped slyly into his head. He gave Rachel a searching glance. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes, glowed, her lips had curled into a sly little smile...she looked well, very well indeed. But was she a woman in the throes of a lusty love? Noah did not think so, but maybe that was because he didn't _want _to think so. He admitted to himself. There was something about believing Rachel in love with Lord Henry's son that turned him unpleasantly cold.

Rachel tried to hide her smile. Noah looked grumpy. He didn't approve of her marrying again, but he was trying to hide it. Had he and Finn been close friends, she might have understood his lack of enthusiasm. But they hadn't been. Noah must have been well aware of the lie that was Finn.

Rachel's smile faltered. Why had. He never told her? Why had he let he wallow in her grief never knowing the truth? For two years! Had Noah kept her in ignorance because he saw nothing wrong in Finn's behaviour? Or because he sought to protect her from a knowledge that would wound her?

Knowing Noah so well, Rachel favored the latter explanation. Yes, she had known him since they were children and he had been sent to live with her family, claiming some tenuous kinship with her father. "Noah has been abandones by his own mother," Rachel remembered her dad saying, as if it had been a serious fault in Noah's character. As if the abandonment had been entirely Noah's doing.

Sometimes, now, the boy that he had been still crept into her heart like a little ache, and sometimes the man he had become irritated and yet intrigued her in equal measure. Most of the time she tended not to take him too seriously-she had known him for too long-but he did offer good advice some of the time, and some of the time she was inclined to take it.

As for her possible bridegroom, Rachel admitted to herself that Noah was partially right. She had chosen Martin because he would deny her nothing, and she was well aware she could order him about. A woman would be a fool to give herself top a man who would not put her first.

But there was more to her sudden decision to remarry. Vengeance. Yes, there was that, if one could take vengeance against a husband who was dead. The fact was, Rachel felt foolish for mourning so long for a man unworthy of her grief. But over and above these things, there had grown a strong sense of lacking, of loss, of loneliness...

Yes, she was lonely.

What would Noah know of that? Rachel asked herself irritably. It was doubtful he was ever lonely. From the rumors Rachel had been privy to, and her own observations, she knew that Noah didn't lack for female companionship. He would not understand her loneliness, her taking the weight of Gunlinghorn upon her shoulders and making a success of it, and then having no one to share her triumphs with. She had no one to laugh with, weep with, no one with whom to spend the long nights, to hold her in the darkness, and to wake with in the morning light.

More than anything, though, Rachel knew she missed the companionship and the closeness she and Finn had once shared. That was what she wanted from Martin- someone to smile at her and hold her hand and lead her to the table, someone to kiss her and hold her when she was feeling low. It didn't need to be wild passion;she didn't really think she was capable of wild passion. Rachel just wanted someone who cared-or did a good job of playing the part!

She shook off her melancholy thoughts. Usually she had no time for such self-indulgence-the running of her Gunlinghorn left her with very little time to ponder her solitary state. And if she wed Martin, there would be no need to ponder it at all.

"I hope you will treat Martin with courtesy," she said, giving Noah a long, censorious look. " I do not want him to feel as if you are judgin him."

Henry cast up his eyes, and the smile he gave her was a touch mischievous. "I won't intimidate him, sweeting, if that is what you mean."

Rachel studied him a moment more, trying to make him out, but of course it was impossible. If Noah did not wish you to read his thoughts, then you couldn't. It was one of the most infuriating things about him. On the surface he was charming and easygoing, but there were hidden depths to Noah. Well, she would just have to take him at his word.

Rachel relaxed into a smile of her own." Thank you, Noah, now there was something more..."

"Oh?"

"It concerns Lord Henry, Martin's father. He sent his scribe, who is also his priest, with a request, no, a demand," Rachel's eyes glittered, "that the marriage contract include my agreement that, in the event of Martin's death, he himself would become guardian to my son and protector of Gunlinghorn.

Noah frowned. "Guardian to your son? If you were a feeble female, I suppose I would undersatnd it, but you are not. And protector of Gunlinghor? You have had no protector this far, why would he imagine you needed one?"

"That is what I ask myself," Rachel said, pleased to see he was a put out by Henry's demands as she.

"Perhaps you can discover what notions are wriggling about like worms in that man's head, for I fear he is beyond me."

Noah smiled at the image, but he still looked uneasy."He is a tough old warrior, I grant you. Perhaps he thinks all woman are weak and unable to care for their lands, and there's and end to it. Perhaps if we persuade him you are as capable and clever as you are beautiful, he wil desist."

His praise pleased her. "Well I will not agree to his terms, and there's an end to it. If I wed Martin and anything were to happen to him, I would rule alone, as I do now, until my son is old enough to see his own inheritance. I do not want interference from strangers who know nothing of Gunlinghorn, and care less."

"Is Marting Sick?" Noah was still worrying about the problem. "Maybe the father knows something you do not."

Rachel tapped her finger against her cheek. "I would not have thought so, no. He appears hale and healthy. But you just make your own judgement on the matter, Noah. I'll warrant you know more than I of the lies and tricks powerful men like to play."

Noah wondered if she meant that as a compliment. If not, then what was she implying. She was the only woman he knew who could confuse him like that. "My feeling is that Henry is simply too greedt to allow the possibility of Gunlinghor falling out of his grasp."

"But it is not in his grasp. If I marry, I will be marrying Martin."

"And Martin is a man you can rule, Rach. But think on this; if you can rule him, then so can others." He stood up. "I will bathe, and change my clothes, and see you and your bridegroom."

Rachel smiled, and then watched as he strode across the hall, calling to his man as he went. He looked very handsome, despite the dust of his journey, but then Noah had never been anything but handsome. It was ungenerous of her, she knew, but sometimes she wished he could look just a little worn or frazzled. A little less than perfect.

Henry's servant, Jesse, fell in behind him. He wore Noah's emblem on his tunic, the phoenix surrounded by flame. The tow of then vanished up the stairs into the keep's upper reaches.

Rachel knew in her heart she was glad she had asked Noah to attend her. He may be famed for his honeyed tongue at court, but she knew that in such a situation as this he would give her an honest opinion. Even if she did not agree with it, she could rely upon his to be sincere.

That was something she missed when he was not here-a man who told the truth to her. Martin tended to fatter her, telling her what she wanted to hear. And while it was very nice, and he seemed to mean it, Rachel prefferred the brutal truth.

_You are as capable and clever as you are beautiful._

The words echoed in her head. Did Noah really think she was beautiful? She imagined he was used to falttering woman, and doing other things to them that made them gasp and squirm and beg for more.

And image of his naked, well muscled shoulders and back, his body almost entirely covering the female form beneath him, his hands and mouth touching, caressing, her fingers digging into his back as she felt his lips, warm and teasing, moving over the lump curve of her breast toward its centre. His hot mouth brushing her so that she gasped. His tongue circling, and then his lips closing over her and she...she...

Rachel stood up abruptly. Shocked. What on earth was she thinking? Noah's women were nothing to do with her. She was sometimes curious, yes, but for some reason just now curiosity had gotten out of hand. He cheeks felt quite hot. And it wasn't just her cheeks...

Rachel took a depe breath and pushed all such thoughts firmly out of her head. Enough. That was enough. She had Martin to dream of, hadn't she? Noah was her friend and that was all. Even to begin to imagine such a situation was dangerous and foolish and a sure way to get herself hurt.

When she was quite certain that she regained her composure, Rachel went to attend to her own appearance...

**A/N: hope you guys liked it! Please review and tell me what you think! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm so glad that you guys liked the previous chapter! Sorry for the late update, so here's another one for you!**

_Chapter 2._

_..._

Martin, son of Lord Henry, arrived on a snowy horse at the head of a troop of grim-faced men. He was dressed in a fine blue woollen tunic, with soft, dark leather breeches. The spurs attached to his boot-heels shone like stars. He was a good-looking young man, with eyes of a deep melancholy brown. As Rachel came to greet him, the gaze he turned upon her was more like a hound's toward its master than a future bridegroom's toward his bride.

Noah sighed inwardly. If Rachel wanted a man who was her slave, then she had chosen well. While he stood back and waited to be introduced, Martim was busy kissing her fingers and whispering preposterous compliments to her, his puppy dog eyes full of meaning. Jesse, who was standing behind Noah, murmured something derogatory under his breath.

"Now, now, Jesse," Noah said in mocking reprimand. " We cannot all be men of intelligence. And the lady seems to be enjoying his attention." Indeed, Rachel was quite flushed. "Perhaps its a lesson for you and me-be not clever or skilled if you want to succeed with the ladies. They much prefer stupid men."

"I need no help when it comes to ladies, my lord," Jesse replied with some arrogance.

Noah turned and looked him up and down. Jesse was a medium sized man, much smaller than Noah. But with his rugged good looks, women seemed to cluster about him. Even Santana, when she thought Noah wasn't watching. Maybe Jesse was right, and he did not need instruction from Martin. Or Noah.

"Lord Noah!" Rachel had finally managed to fight free of her aspiring bridegroom, and now her gaze was fastened meaningfully upon him. It was time for him to play his part, outwardly at least. But, as Noah strolled forward, full of his usual smiling confidence, he felt anything but amiable toward Martin, the son of Henry.

"Lord Martin," Rachel introduced him, "this is my oldest and dearest friend, Lord Noah of Montevoy."

Martin looked up. His eys widened at the sight of Noah, and then as quickly narrowed. There was no mistaking the gleam of jealousy in them. He tightened his mouth. In a heartbeat he had turned from a handsome charming young man into a small boy who has had something taken from him and doesn't know whether to scream or cry.

Was Martin really so lacking in trust for Rachel that he would be jealous of and "old friend"?

Or was it just that Noah's reputation with women had followed him all the way to Gunlinghorn? Still, Noah did not allow his own smile to falter-he was doing this to please Rachel, not Martin. He gritted his teeth and made his brief bow and spoke of his pleasure at meeting Martin. Then, for good measure, he added, " As Lady Rachel said, she and I are very old _friends._" Stressing the word.

Martin's demeanor brightened a little, although he still didn't appear all too comfortable in Noah's presence.

"L-Lord Noah," he stammered. "I have heard of you, of course. Your name is well known throughout the whole land."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? You flatter me, Lord Martin."

"No, no I do not! You are know f-far and w-wide. My father has spoken of you. Indeed, once at court, when h-he claimed a parcel of land to the west, you-" but Martin came to an abrupt halt. His face flushed a deep and ugly red, and he glanced away, swallowing audibly. "That is, he-he met you once, in London, at court. That is all I-I meant to say."

Jesse snorted rudely, turning it into a cough. Noah ignored him. "Of course you did," he said evenly. "And I do remember your father." _and the matter you speak of, _he thought, but did not say it aloud. Martin already looked as if he was about to explode with embarrassment, or terror, or both.

Rachel appeared confused, as well as she might. Her glance slid over Noah's innocent expression and narrowed, as if she blamed him for Martin's state-most unfait in Noah's opinion. Then with a brilliant, dtermined smile, she took Martin's arm and, speaking softly to him, led him within the keep.

Noah followed, his smile genuine and no longer polite. He remembered the incident at the court well enough, although he had forgotten it until Martin reminded him.

The father had claimed some land that was not due to him, and the king had asked Noah what he thought. Noah had said he had seen the land himself and he joked that he wouldn't mind having it, and the king, more as a rebuff to Lord Henry's presumption than to reward Noah, had promptly given it to him. Henry had left in a rage, swearing vengeance.

He must have thought better of it, for the vengeance had never eventuated, but it was clearly still on his, and his son's mind. Being acquainted with the truculent and bitter Lord Henry, Noah could well imagine that the slight, and the loss of the land, had never been allowed to be forgotten.

The meal was succulent and well prepared, and there was even a juggler to add to the occasion. Rachel was excelling herself to please her would-be bridegroom, and young Martin seemed willing and eager to be pleased. Now and then he would cast a nervous glance in Noah's direction, and his stammer was more pronounced when he spoke to him, but otherwise the occasion went off without further incident.

Noah was able to converse with some of Rachel's household, her ladies and steward, and Sir Arthur Abrahams, the knight in charge of her garrison.

Gunlinghorn impressed him tonight, with its elegance and grandeur, as it had never done before. It was the sort of place he might have dreamed of living in, as a child. An abandond child, he reminded himself wryly. A son of minor nobility, Noah had been technically an orphan by the age of five, when his devout mother had decided to enter a religious house and spend het remaining years within its walls.

She had wanted to be a nun from girlhood but had been prevented by her family and forced to marry. With her husband dead and a son she looked upon as the product of a sin rather than her own flesh and blood, she had followed her inclination.

Alone and abandoned, Noah had been passed from relative to relative, no matter hpw tenuous the comnection. He had lived in many different castles and keeps throughout Normandy, reliant upon others for his well-being -or lack of.

He had looked upon it as an adventure, suitable training for the tough knight that he one day planned to become. And then he had been taken to a castle like no other. He had been drawn into the whole with no hope of escape. Noah had been thirteem when he was released from that hell, and he had taken the chance he had been given.

Like a phoenix he had risen anew from ashes and four years later had been knighted for hos bravery in a small skirmish. He had not looked back.

Yes, he was proud of what he had become, the life he had made for himself, the man he had molded from the boy. He prefered the present. The past was full of dark corners. Memories he did not revisit often. Shadowy recollections he did not dwell upon.

Much better to remember when Ivan the Bastard had set out to conquer England, although he had claimed at the time it was righfully his. Whatever the legality of the matter, Noah had known it was his opportunity to do good. He saw the he could use Ivan's ambition as a lever to rasie himself higher.

So it had been. He'd been there with Ivan at Hastings and had helped him to victory. Ever since that day, the kimg had enjoyed his company and found his clever tongue useful. And he had certainly been well rewarded for his efforts.

Not that Noah was complacent. He was well aware that his circumstamces could change quicker than King Schuester's words. His position would always be precarious,and he could never be too careful. One of the reasons why, despite his trust in Blaine, his secomd in command, he preferred not to be away from court for too long. Allegiances shifted, favorites fell, wheels turned full circle, and Noah did not intend to be one of the casualties.

Maybe I shouldn't have come, Noah thought now, uneasily. There were stirrings at court and about England ; some of the Anglo-Normam barons were intent upon securing more land than they deserved. It had been Noah's job to keep an eye out on these rumors and plots, and to put a stop to them if it became necessary. Blaine would send word if matters become dire, he knew, and yet...

Bur Rachel had asked for him, and because she was his friend, and he wanted to please her, he had come. Although, he thought grimly, if pleasing her meant allowimg her to wed a weak fool like Martin, then he might do better to displease her. Was that what she really wanted? A husband who would gaze at her as if he was witless and do exactly as she told him? Then Martin was perfect for her.

Besides, who was Noah to judge?

He, himself, had never looked for more than a compliment mind aand body when seeking a new mistress., and that could not be much different for a wife. Certainly the last thing he had ever wanted was for his heart to be engaged. Santana was pretty and amiable, and she cared no more for him than he cared for her.

The perfect situation, surely? Why would Rachel be any different in her choices, and why should Noah want her to be?

"Well?" Rachel demanded, when at least Martin was gone and they ewere alone again. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and a strand of hair hang loose and laid against her temple. She looked like a young girl again, rather than a mature woman who had been wed amd borne a son. Noah had an urge to reach out and brush the stramd away, he squeezed his hand into a fist and stopped himself.

Suddenly touching Rachel did not seem like a good idea.

"Well?" she asked again, impatient with him now. "What do you think of Martin?"

"What do I think of Martin?" Noah pretended to ponder. "Does it matter what I think of him?"

Rachel poked her finger into his arm. "Stop teasing me, Noah, I want to know tour opinion of my future husband."

"Very well.I think that he is smitten with you. Rachel, and as long as his love lasts, he will be easy enough to, manage." That was the truth as Noah saw it.

Rachel, who had begun to smile, froze. "'As long as it lasts'?"

"No one lasts forever, but some lasts longer than others. I don't know whether the fact he is jealous of me is a good sign or a bad sign. Maybe good."

"Jealous!" Rachel declared, brown eyes narrowing. "What do you mean Noah? Martin has no reason to be jealous."

"Didn't you see the way he looked at me when we met? He was jealous, Rachel. He thought you and I are..."

Her eyes narrowed even more, like a cat, and Noah bit his lip on the less than polite word he was about to say. "Let's just say Rach, that he believes we are far more than friends."

Rachel broke into laughter. "You cannot be serious! You and me Noah! I will have to explain to Martin that if there are two people in all of England least likely to ne lovers, then its you and me!"

For some reason Noah did not feel amused. What was so amusing anyway? What was wrong with him? Was he less of a man than Martin? Noah felt the stirrings of a strange anger deep inside himself. He was a better man than that cow-eyed youth, and he knew it!

Why did Rachel find the notion of him and her so laughable? It was enough to make him want to prove her mistaken.

Noah inwardly shook his head at his own shortsightedness. Such a step would be both foolish and cruel. He was not a cruel man, and he was certainly not a fool. If Rachel had hurt his pride, then it had been unintentional. She was his freind. Surely havimg such a friend was far, far better than making her his lover for a short time, ant then, inevitably, having nothing.

But just for an instant, a heavenly vision came to him. Of Rachel, her creamy skin uncovered and her brown hair loose about her lush body. Her brown eyes, sleepy with desire, lifted to his and her arms held out toward him. Just for an instant, and then it was gone, and Noah could breath again.

Rachel was combing her hair. The long, heavy tresses fell over her back and shoulders,curling up at the ends, shorter strands tickling her face and neck. She often thought her hair dull, but the firelight brought out the many different colors to be found in it-gold and mahogany. They gleamed and meshed, making the dull glorius.

She thought of Martin and smiled. He might seem young, but he would mature with time and some careful tutoring from her. Noah was right. Although she had not liked to admit it, Martin was uncomfortably jealous of other men. That, Rachel decided, was the fault of his youth, and of his overbearing father.

With time his confidence would grow, and he would no longer be quite so insecure. He was not Finn, she reminded himself. He did not have Finn's easy self confidence. But then she did not want another Finn. She had loved her husband, mourned him, and he had betrayed her. Men like Finn, men like Noah, found it too easy to, manipulate a woman's gentle heart and willing body. She wanted no more of them. Rachel took a deep breath.

Wasn't that one of the reasons why she was marrying Martin? To take revenge upon Finn's memory? But that was her secret. Not even Noah must know the true extent of her hurt-he would not understand. Noah neber allowed emotion to interfere with business, and what was marriage but a business contract.

She drew her comb through her hair, remembering Noah's face when she had laughed at the idea of him and her. She should not have laughed. It had been impolite of her. But the thought of them together struck her as so bizarre that it was amusing. They were so totally unsuited, so unlikely a couple! For a moment there he had looked...hurt, before his good humor had reasserted itself.

That was one of the wonderful things about Noah, he was so even tempered that very little upset him. He had been a sweet boy, and he had grown into a amiable man.

Rachel kmew she was lucky to have Noah as her friend. And so much better to be his friend than his lover. She had always felt a little sorry for his women, although they did not appear to resent the experience. There were always lots more of them willing to take the place of those who had gone before.

_Is he really such a good lover?_

The curious thought had hardly entered her mind when it was followed by an image of Noah. Golden skin and dark eyes, rising above her, his handsomeness all over her. She shook her head, uncomfortable with herself. No,no, not again, that would never do! Noah was her friend, one of her few friends, and she did not want to ruin such a fortunate friendship.

Once, when they were hardly more than children, they had kissed once afternoon in a meadow, and it had been very sweet, but that was long ago. Such things were best forgotten. If she had really hurt his feelings by laughing at him, then she would make it up tomorrow. She would take him out riding! Although the vale of Gunlinghorn and the surrounding hills were white with snow, the ride would be a treat. Noah had always loved to ride around Gunlinghorn.

Rachel was well aware that he would already be missing the court, with its verbal maze of rumor and gossip, the constant stimulation of his mind and his senses. Noah thrived upon such things, they were his life. It was important that while he was here, she keep him entertained with all the persuits he enjoyed.

Yes, tomorrow they would go riding. Just the two of them.

The Gunlonghorn countryside was white, the fields were covered in a crisp layer of snow, the water meadows and marshes half-frozen, while ice and snow hung heavy from the bare branches of the trees in the woods. Beyond the cliffs to the south,the sea was gray and sullen, while somr brave gulls floated in a sky that was just as gray.

Rachel ad risen early, washing and dressing in her warmest gown and fur-lined boots, and hurried down to the hall.

Noah, who had already risen, as she had known he would be, smiled at her over his mug of ale and morning meal of bread and cheese. Rachel hesitated to reach him. That was odd. Why had she never noticed before how strong and white his teeth were? And how little lines by his eyes creased up so attractively ehen he smiled?

For a moment her thoughts were confused, and she found herself wondering what she had been about to say, but she quickly shook off the strangeness. It wasn't as if she had never seen Noah before. And yet, just for a moment there, he had been like a stranger. A handsome, desirable stranger.

"I thought we could go riding this morning, Noah," Rachel said, a little breathlessly, striving for normality. "I have not bern out for weeks, and although it will be cold, I believe the weather will hold for a few hours."

Noah's smile broadened. "I would enjoy that very much, Rach." He hesitated. His smile remained but lost its ease. " Martin would be coming?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, not Martin. We will go together, Noah, just you and me."

Noah nodded then hesitated, as if debating something, before launching into what sounded like a prepared speech. "I have been thinking about your marriage, Rachel. The king may not approve an allience between you amd Martin. Mayne you should wait until he gets back from Normandy and see what-"

Rachel held up her hand. "No, Noah. Not today. We will talk about , my marriage, but not today. I intend to forget about Martin and Henry, all of them, amd enjoy myself. Please," she added.

Noah paused. It was true, he had been mulling over her marriage during the night, and the more he mulled, the less happy he became at the idea of his Rachel aligning herseld with that family. And perhaps more importantly, the less happy he believee kimg Schuester would be. But she was right, such things could wait until later.

"Of course," he said genially and rose to his feet. "Let us ride together."

"Mama mama can I come?"

The boy runnimg toward then had hair that curled around his head and it was the same color as Rachel's. He came to a halt against her skirts, buffeting her, but she laughed and hugged him to her. What is his name thought Noah. What was Rachel's son's name?

"Christopher, you grow stronger everyday," Rachel pretended to scold, solving the problem for him.

Christopher gave her a broad grin and then turned his gaze on Noah. There was a slightly wary look in his eyes now, as if he was well aware that Noah did not willingly seek the company of children. Noah had a suspicion that Rachel herself may have told her son not to bother their guest, and he was grateful.

"Good morning Christopher," he said in a falsely jovial voice. The boy bowed carefully. "Lord Noah, I pray you are well."

Noah's lips twitched despite himself, while Rachel ben and murmured something in the boy's ear. For a moment Christopher looked mulish, but then with a sigh he nodded. A plump young woman waited anxiously waited farther down the hall. Clearly waiting for Christopher. He turne and dragged his feet, returning the way he had come but not before he had cast another glance at Noah. This time the look in the boy's eyes wwas pleading and Noah had an uncharacteristic urge to call him back, to say that of course he could go with them.

He stifled it. Boys like Christopher reminded him too much of his own young and innocent self.

He supposed he had been that innocent, once. Or nearly so. Life had sometimes been difficult, and he had been much alone, but he had been brave and strong and determined to make the most of his opportunities. How was he to know he would fall in love with such evil creatures?

Rachel's warm fingers brushed against his, startling him. "Come then," she said gently, almost as if she had read his mind. "Let us go while the weather holds."

The horses had not been exercised for some time, and they were eager as Noah and Rachel to be out in the brisk morning air. For a while they simply rode,Jesse and the troop of men-at-arms spread out behind them. When they reached the top of Gunlinghorn Hill, they stopped, breathless and gazed at the view before them.

On such a crisp and cold day, it was possible to see for many miles. Noah looked with satisfaction upon the rich vale of Gunlinghorn, with its wide river and meadows and, overlooking it all, the stark bulk of the protecting castle. This may not be London, but, to Noah's mind, it was the next best thing. If he had to live in the country, if he was forced to become a live-in landlord, then he would choose Gunlinghorn.

Then he remembered. Soon Martin, with his brown, eye, might be master here, and Noah would no longer feel welcome. The idea of that sulky boy at Gunlinghorn was suddenly so repugnant to Noah that he determined that if the marriage went ahead, he would never visit again. With that realisation came another. Noah had never understood just how much he would miss Gunlinghorn. And Rachel.

He glanced at her, wondering if she was thinking the same thing, if she realized this might be one of their last days together. But Rachel was smiling as she gazed over her domain, her thoughts clearly very distant from his own. Rachel caught his eye, and there was a wildness in hers he remembered from when they were children.

"Let's ride to the sea," she cried and, with a laugh, kicked her horse into a gallop. She flew down the hillside, and into the woods, the hood of her fur-lined cloak falling back from her hair. She didn't look back, she just expected him to follow her. And so he would; so he alwyas did. With a laugh of his own, Noah set off in hot persuit.

They spent the next few hours simply enjoying themselves, in a manner they had not done for years. They reached the sea at Gunlinghorn Harbor, the village that straddled the mouth of the river where it spewed into the sea. Rachel received revenue from the trading boats that came and went from her harbor, and because it was relatively safe, though small, anchorage along an often dangerous coastline, she was never short of vessels putting in.

Dwellings and hostelries had grown up around the timber wharf, catering to the seamen, merchants and traders, with their packhorses, who came to carry the goods to market elsewhere.

"My lord." Jesse nodded toward one particular building, where a sign painted with the image of a black dog was propped against the wall. "My father's sister lives here. Her name is Caroline. Have I your permisiion to visit her? If you wish"-he glanced at Rachel-"she will serve us food and ale. I have heard this inn is well known for its good service."

Noah raised a brow. "I did not know you had blood relations here, Jesse."

"My father was a builder of boats, my lord, and lived here for a time under the reign of the english king Edward, called the Confessor. My father's sister married and stayed after he returned to Normandy."

"Thank you, Jesse," Rachel said. "I would be glad to partake of your aunt's hospitality. I know Caroline, and you are right, this inn has a fine reputation."

Jessy's aunt Caroline was a small, plump woman with wiry dark hair, and when she hugged Jesse, he head only came to his armpits. She fed them well, and Rachel sat by the fire, warming herself, and enjoying the informality. It was not often that she allowed herself a day away from the endless tasks that befell her at Gunlinghorn.

She glanced across at Noah and found him watching her in an oddly intent manner, his eyes half closes. Almost at once he smiled, sharing the moment.

"It is long since we sat together like this,"he said. "As I recall, your mother would never let you sit idle for long. You had learn to be a great lady."

"And you a brave kinight," she retorted.

"She did not like me," Noah said matter-of-factly."She was afraid you would grow too fond of me."

"All the girls were in love with you, Noah. It was the fault of your handsome face."

She was teasing him, and he laughed, but there was something at the back of his eyes. Something she did not recognize.

"But you did not, did you?" He said at last. "Fall in love with me, I mean. You made me run errands for you, and fetch and carry. And I was only willing to do so."

"You could have told me Noah."

He smiled at her again, and his smile made her feel hot.

"I'd never tell you, Rach, you know that. I am yours, body and soul, to do with as you please."

The picture he made for her was not at all calming. Suddenly she was too close to the fire, or she had eaten to much of Caroline's pastries. She felt uncomfortable and feverish. She wanted to wriggle on her bench and fan herself with her hand.

Rachel found herself looking at him, really looking at him. His eyes, his wide mouth, his masculine throat, his broad chest and hips and his strong legs, stretched out before him. His hands, resting elegantly upon his lap. And she found herself wondering what it would feel like to have those hands on her bare skin.

Luckily, before the rogue thought could progress any further, their cozy interlude was interrupted.

"My lady?" One of the men-at-arms was standing before her, a note of urgency in his voice. "A boat has run aground on a sandbar inside the river mouth. They are asking for help to pull her off."

"What boat is this?" Noah asked with interest.

"From Bruges, my lord. They say they are carrying wine and oil and some bolts of cloth. We can attach ropes from the shore and pull her free. The tide is on the turn, so that will make things easier. Have we your permission to help?"

Noah opened his mouth and then stopped at looked at Rachel. She could see the quick remembrance in his eyes. This was her harbor, her village, her river. The decision was hers. His consideration pleased her-not many men would have remembered that it was not their place to give orders, and if they had, not many men would have cared.

"Of course you must help," she said briskly. "Use all the men-at-arms and as many of the villagers you can find."

The soldier left, and Noah rose to his feet, stretching and held out his hand to Rachel. "Come we had best take a look at this boat from the Bruges."

Outside the air was cold, and the wind tossed their cloaks and made Rachel catch her breath. A craft lay stranded upon a narrow sandbar, tipped to one side and being washed about by the incoming tide. The boat was rather squat, with a combination of deck and tarpaulin to keep her cargo safe and dry. Several crew members were busy tossing roped to the men upon the shore, while Jesse pointed and shouted and generally took charge.

"I doubt we are needed here,"Noah said, glancing at Rachel's huddled form. "Are you cold?"

Rachel nodded her head. "I am, but its not that. I have much to do. I think its time for me to return to the castle, Noah. I can ride alone, I have done it before. Its perfectly safe. Finn long ago rid our lands of any brigands."

"I will come with you. Jesse can manage here."

The swell of pleasure she felt at his offer seemed excessive, and Rachel forced her voice into more moderate tones. What was happening to her? She had been alone with Noah before, many times. This agitation was new.

Rachel glanced at the sky. There was dark clouds edging to the north, but they seemed far away. She considered danger and dismissed it in her eagerness to ride with Noah.

"Very well. We can ride east, along the cliffs. You will like that Noah. It is wild and dangerous place."

"Then we will enjoy them together," Noah said with a smile that made his eyes bluer than ever. " We will be wild and dangerous together, Rach."

And why, Rachel thought, as Noah hlped her onto her mount, did that sound like a threat?...

...Or a promise...

**A/N: lemme know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 3._

...

The cliffs were dizzyingly high, and below them the gray sea prowled and snarled. Noah and Rachel set their horses at a gallop over the tufts of grass, startling the birds and a few egg-gathering villagers. The wild setting reminded Noah of Rachel's family home, in Normandy, where the same sea also crashed against the cliffs.

Perhaps, Noah thought, that was why she loved Gunlinghorn, and perhaps that was why she was so content with her life here.

Althought not completely content, he reminded himself as he paused to catch his breath. Not if she wished to remarry. Finn's image shimmered in his mind, half forgotten, dark haired and dark eyes, his face scarred from smallpox. In character, Finn had been a little like Noah, confident, but not so smart, and brash. But his passage through life had been far easier; he had grown up under King Schuester's shadow and protection and had not had to battle against Noah's odds.

Rachel's mother had wanted her daughter to marry Finn when she was still very young, but Rachel would not have him. Finn had married elsewhere, but the woman had died without any children to show for their union. So Finn had cast his eye about again, and this time Rachel had decided to be more amenable. She had fallen in love with him, and so she married him.

Noah had no doubts at the time that Finn loved her, too. He had even believed that Finn would be faithful to her-or maybe he'd just hoped so. But of course he hadn't been.

During their marriage there had been other women, lots of them, but at least Finn had kept the knowledge of them from his wife. How could she, safe at Gublinghorn, have known what her husband was up to elsewhere? There had been times when Finn's careless behaviour had angered Noah, and he had struggled hard to hide the facts from Rachel. It had been she he'd thought of everytime he'd lied or tidied away Finn's mess. Not Finn.

_And would you have behaved differently? _The voice in his head mocked him. _If you had been wed to Rachel, would you have been true to her and only her?_

Possibly not. Probably not, he corrected himself. But then he would never have allowed himself to be placed into a position where he could hurt her , would he?

A gull soared above him, screeching, and then diving, sending his thoughts tumbling along with it. The sea air blew cold against his face, stinging in his eyes, tugging at his clothing, and yet he felt very much alive. And carefree. Here at Gunlinghorn there was nothing to do, no one to see, no rumors to track down or unravel, no plots to untangle, no assasins to fear. It had been a long time since Noah had felt so unfettered by worldly cares.

He was not sure he trusted it. Rachel was also deep in her own thoughts, though hers were more prosaic. In her head, she was counting up the carefully packed barrels of salted meat in her storeroom, and wondering if they would last through until spring. She did not doubt thet would, not really, for she was a careful housekeeper. But winter was a season for taking stock of what they had, and what would be needed for Gunlinghorn in the year ahead. Rachel had many souls dependant upon her good management, and she did not mean to fail them.

Finn never understood that, or perhaps he just had not cared as much as she. He was like Noah, preferring the life and liveliness of court and the king's company and, she had discovered, the easy women to be found there. Domestic bliss was not for Finn, it seemed, and yet she had been too besotted and trusting to see it. Never again. She would never place herself in such a position again.

The wheeling gull caused her to look up too. And as she did, a snowflake fluttered down and melted upon her cheek. They had ridden far today, almost to the farthest edge of her lands, and suddenly she realised that the weather was closing in. The threatenlingly dark clouds she had seen earlier were almost upon them. Already a thick mist hung low over the hills to the north, lapping at the forewst that lay between then and the saftey of the vale of Gunlinghorn.

Soon the storm would be surging in to cover them all. She had been so lost in dreams that she had failed to notice the approaching danger.

"We must go home," she said sharply and glanced over her shoulder at Noah. "There is snow coming, and lots of it."

Noah too was frowning at the heavy clouds. Snow was beginning to fall more quickly now.

"Hurry then," he replied and met her eyes. "Lead the way, Rach, and I will follow."

She gave a brief nod and, without another word, headed into the forest. The air grew swiftly colder, and as hard as they rode, they could not outrun the snow. Thick, blinding snow.

Rachel felt her body growing chilled, her feet turning to ice, and feared that soon they would be unable to continue. That was when she saw the old tree, the gnarled and twisted oak, rising tall above its younger brethren. And she realized she was much closer to Uther's tower than she had been aware.

Uther's tower was a place used mainly in the warmer months by the woodsmen who cared for Gunlinghotn forests. However, there were times when her people used it for shelter in the winter, so it was kept in good order all year round. They would be safe there, and surely it made sense to wait out this storm in relative comfort.

She felt a tingle of doubt. As if she was about to make a decision that would have far-reaching consequences...

"Rachel?" Noah's voice was behind her, his face grim and white with cold, his eyes narrowed against the weather. "We cannot stop here," he shouted. "We must find shelter!"

Noah was depending upon her, Rachel reminded herself. He trusted her to get them to safety. He was following her, just as he had promised to do. She owed it to him not to fail.

"There is shelter. There!" She called back, and pointed through the stark trees. Noah nodded to show he had heard, and urged his tired horse after her, ducking his head beneath the bare branched, once again letting her lead the way.

Uther's tower rose stark before them. A squat tower gave the building its name, and attached was a solid cottage structure, made of a mixture of timber and stone. It looked as If it had simply sprung up from the ground. There was already a thick coating of new snow upon the jagged outline, and more piled up in front of the low door.

Noah dismounted, quickly using both his hands to clear enough spoace of the snow out of the doorway so that they could open the door and enter. He looked back at her. "Come on!" He said, with a frwon. "You'll freeze to death!"

He was right, she knew it. And yet she had a sense of risking all, of burning her bridges, of stepping into the unknown...

Rachel followed him inside. It was hushed out of the storm. For a moment Rachel blinked, seeing onl darkness, and then slowly her sight grew accustomed to the gloomy interior of the building. There was but a single room, with an earthen floor and some clean straw tossed into a heap against one wall.

Wood had been piled neatly, and while Noah stabled their horses in the lean-to at the back of the tower, Rachel began to make a fire.

Her hands were frozen now, as well as her feet, and when the wood finally caught with a lick of flame, she sank down beside it with a grateful whimper. By the time Noah returned, his cloak heavy with snow, the wood was well ablaze and giving off some heat.

"I did not pay enough heed to the weather," she confessed, giving him an apologetic look as he fastened the door. "I saw the storm approaching, but I was enjoying myself too much, and I thought we had time-"

He untied the laces of his cloak and swung it off, laying it over the woodpile to dry.

"So was I. Enjoying myself, I mean." Noah came and stood by the fire, looking across the flames at her. He seemed to be searching her face, reading her thoughts, and then he gave a wicked smile. "We were the same when we were children, remember? Riding out together and forgetting ourselves. Your mother was always scoldind. We are equally at fault, Rachel, but we are safe here now. And in such luxurious lodgings. What is this place?"

"Uther's tower. We don't really know who Uther was, but legend says he was a long-ago king of this part of England. I think he was a Briton, holding his lands against the Romans. He built this tower as a warning to them not to come any farther. One of the stories tells of his love for the wife of a captain of a Roman Legion. This may even have been where the lovers met."

Noah raised his eyebrows. "It's not very romantic."

"Yes it is." She retorted, refusing to be annoyed with his skepticism.

"I could think of better places to meet," he went on, glancing around the room. "There isn't even a comfortable bed."

Rachel shook her head at him in disgust. "They were in love, Noah. It's a state of mind."

"Like lunacy?"

She tried to smile, but suddenly she was just too cold. Even though the fire was now crackling pleasantly, she couldn't seem to get warm. There wasn't enough heat to counteract the intense cold that had already entered her body and was still seeping into the building from the snowstorm raging outside.

With a frown, Noah moved to kneel by her side. "Are your feet cold?"

"I cannot feel them at all." Despite her furs, Rachel shook and shivered.

"Here, then." He reached to take her boots in his hand, swiftly moving them and arranging them by the fire to dry. Her stockinged feet were very cold, and his hands were so warm...they felt wonderful. He set about rubbing each of them to the warmth, toes, heel and instep. Next he set to work on her hands, pink with cold beneath her gloves.

His face was creased with concentration as he performed his task, and his touch was impersonal and thorough, yet gentle. He was doing what needed to bew done, but Rachel did not feel like and object, far from it. She felt cheerished; there was something very agreeable in his touch, something very comforting, almost sensuous...

Rachel was aware of her whole body relaixing, growing languid with pleasure of Noah ministering to her.

"Thank you, Noah," she said softly. "You are very good to me."

Noah looked up at her, the firelight dancing in his hazel eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?" He mocked. "We are old friends aren't we?"

He looked very appealing, and very handsome. Why, thought Rachel in surprise, he is like a stranger! If she had not remembered this was the man she had known forever, her childhood compabion, she would have been as foolishly attracted to him as any other woman...but she was attracted to him.

"Are you still cold?" Noah demanded, a crease of worry between his brows. He reached again to clasp her hands, her fingers strong and sure. There was a crooked white scar on the back on one of them, and suddenly she thought; _I do not know how he came by that scar._

And at the same time she realised that there were many things she did not know about Noah. In her arrogance she had believed she knew everything there was to know about him. The truth was, she didn't. She couldn't. And maybe it was not safe to do so.

"Rachel?" He was watching her, waiting for thr answer to his question, puzzled by her silence.

She turned her thoughts away from this new, dangerous direction, and managed a pale smile. "I am still cold...that is, a little."

His frown deepened. Was his annoyance with her or the weather? Before she could ask the question, he lifted her cloak so that it enfolded them both, his arm sliding under the furred lining. He drew her in, close, to hois side, and pressed her head gently down onto his shoulder. Surprise kept her from protesting, and then, when he tightened his hold about her, pleasure stopped her from moving away. Yes, she was enjoying it, enjoying being completely enclose. By Noah.

"You will soon be warm," he murmured, and his breath stirred her hair, brushed against her skin. Her heart quickened withing her breast, and her blood seemed to melt, turning her insides into a river of heat.

Rachel heard her inner voice sound a warning. Run for your life! It said. She ignored it, just as she had ignored the danger of the storm clouds. Noah was her friend, her oldest friend, but as she listened to his voice rumble deep in his chest, and the easy beat of his heart, her usual equilibrium tottered into a quivering mess. The truth was, she liked his body, so hard and warm against hers, and the strong band of his arm about her waist.

Rachel shivered again, but it wasn't from the cold. No, she was getting warm, far, far too warm, and all from touching Noah. Indeed she was ready for marriage; until now she had not realized how her body missed the contact of a man...

"Rach?" Noah sounded concerned. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up. He was watching her, staring down into her face. Their gazes tangled, played games. Rachel slid the tip of her tongue along her lip, meaning to moisten its dryness, but instead the movement made him catch his breath.

In an instant he was alert, his body tense. She knew he could see something of her feelings in her face. She was sure her need was written plain in her eyes.

Oh, what was happening to her? Her heart began to beat hard in her chest, and the inner voice said, this is wrong, this is wrong, stop it now. And yet she could not seem to pull away from him. Not even to save her life could she pull away from the grip of whatever had her as its prisoner. Deep inside she knew she did not even want to.

And then Noah made a sound very like a groan of pain, and dipped his head and kissed her.

Noah's mouth was hot, while his lips were cold. The combination was astonishingly delicious. Rachel, at first surprised to move, found her own mouth respinding, found herself kissing him back. He was so familiar, and yet so different. He was Noah, and yet he was not the Noah she knew, had thought she knew. Someone she had imagined to be vtery familiar seemed to have altered beyond all recognition. But he was still Noah.

Rachel pulled back with a shaken laugh, putting her fingers to her lips. He was staring down at her, breathing fast, and behind the confusion she saw in his eyes, mirroring her own, was desire. Hot, burning desire. It shook her to the core of her being. It jolted her back to the here and now, and out of whatever fantasy she had just strayed into.

"I don't know what it happening, Noah," she said in a trembling voice, and it was no more than the truth.

"I kissed you," Noah said and turned away, moving to throw more wood upon their fire. Rachel felt a chill with the lack of him. Her body still trembled, but was that cold or something more? she no longer trusted herself to know the difference. Her senses had betrayed her.

"I cannot believe you have never been kissed before, Rach," Noah added, and his familiar mockery stung.

Rachel forced a husky laugh. "Is that all it was? A kiss between old friends? It felt like more." that sounded like a question, and she immediately wished it back.

But Noah was busy with the fire, and there was nothing in his manner that confirmed what she believed she had seen in his eyes. _Desire? For me? No! _She had been mistaken. Noah did not desire her, why would he? They were friends, nothing more, and he had plenty of women to sate his needs. The simple truth was that she had probably looked so cold and miserable and Noah, being the kind man he was, had kissed her to warm her up!

Noah arranged another cut of wood on the fire, concentrating on it as if his life depended upon it. Behind him, he could feel her puzzlement and her uncertainty, and he cursed himself. _Why _had he kissed her? the fact that she looked so kissable, so delectable, should not have any effect on him. He had never desired Rachel. She was the one woman he had always felt safe with, the one woman with whom he had never felt a need to prove himself.

Why in God's name had that suddenly changed? But it hadn't, Noah insisted to himself. Nothing had changed. It had been a momentary aberration, and now it had passed. He glanced at her over his shoulder, noting her wet, straggling hair and cold, pinched face. _See, not a flicker of desire, _he told himself proudly. And then he looked at her again.

She really was soggy. Her gown was soaked and clinging to her, her arms were wrapped about her body with her fingers tucked under her arms, as if seeking warmth, her feet in the damp stockings were as close to the fire as she could bear them.

"You need to take off your wet clothes," he said matter-of-factly. "My cloak is almost dry now. You can use that to cover yourself until your own dries."

Something deep in his mind was jumping about, waving its arms and shouting, but he didn't heed it. A warning? What warning? He needed no warning. This was Rachel, remember? Rachel needed his help, and he had never failed before.

Rachel cocked her head to one side, as if she heard the warning too. "I don't know Noah…."

"You will freeze to death Rachel. You do want to get home to Gunlinghorn, and eventually wed your Martin, do you not?"

Perhaps it was mention of her bridegroom that did it, or perhaps it was the matter-of-factness in Noah's tone. Rachel felt herself relax as her fears receded. It was just that, after that kiss, she felt a little uneasy with him. Another sensation she had never experienced in Noah's presence before.

_Don't be silly. This is Noah. I need to get warm or I really will get ill. It is foolish to be prudish with a man I have known most of my life._

With a shrug, she reached under her cloak and began to unfasten the damp laces at the neck of her gown with stiff, uncooperative fingers. Noah watched her sideways, pretending he wasn't. when he could bear her fumblings no longer, he sighed loudly and, crawling across to her, pushed her fingers aside and quickly unknotted the laces.

He undid the cloak, too, and pulled it from her shoulders. "There, now take your things off, and I will fetch my cloak for you." But again he hesitated, eyeing her damp feet, then he briskly began to remove her stockings from where they were tied above her knees. He pretended the legs he was uncovering were not slim and very attractive; he sensed that if he stopped for a moment to consider what he was doing he might as well be in trouble.

"Now," he said, as she thanked him gravely, "take off the rest."

He went to fetch his cloak, bringing it to her before laying out her own cloak and stockings on the woodpile. Then he returned to the fire and sat with is back to her. very soon a bare arm stretched out and dropped the remained of her garments beside him. He noted them. Her gown and a warm woolen chemise and another, silken one to be worn close to her skin. Noah proceeded to deal with them as matter-of-factly as the rest.

If his fingers noted that the last chemise was soft and clinging, and retained the scent of her skin, he told himself not to dwell upon it. And if his head felt a little dizzy, as if he were becoming intoxicated, he told himself it was the smoke.

When at last he had finished his task, and found the courage to turn again to Rachel, she was sitting on her side of the fire, small within the folds of his much larger cloak, her hair spread over her back and shoulders to dry._ Her side of the fire?_ When had it become necessary to separate them like this? When he had needed to put distance between them? This was Rachel, his friend, his sweety…and her hands were shaking as she held them to the flames. And yet he hesitated. He played for time.

"We are still like children," he said, and smiled, "Too busy playing our games to notice the weather closing in."

"we always were a b-bad influence on each other." Rachel's teeth were chattering now, though she strove up to keep them still. "R-remember how my mother was always trying to s-separate us?"

"She never could. We always found a way to sneak past her watchful eyes." His smiled turned grim at the memories-perhaps his recollections were different from Rachel's. it was true, her mother never like him, she'd have a way of pursing her mouth when she'd looked at him, as if he'd reeked of some odor only she could smell. But Rachel had been indifferent to her mother's threats and warnings, preferring to make up her own mind.

In those days she'd believe Noah could do no wrong, and in repayment for her loyalty he had led her into much mischief. He would not have blamed her if she had abandoned him to his own company, but she never had. Rachel had remained his loyal friend.

"You were always very kind to me, Rachel. Probably far kinder than I deserved."

She looked at him in the firelight, and her brown eyes glowed within the golden lights. "Oh Noah," she said softly, "you were such a sweet little boy. I could no more given you up than…my best pony."

He chuckled at the comparison, but his heart swelled. She had loved him, and he her, there was no denying it, but time had moved on and they had grown. He had done things he would not wish her to know about, lived a life far beyond her world, while she had in turn become a wife and a mother to Finn's son, and the Lady of Gunlinghorn. They were as far apart as the moon and the sun, but still that long-ago bond remained, tying them together.

She was his lodestone, he realized, his center. Her needed her to remind him of his origins, of who he really was. He needed to see the warmth and admiration her eyes to continue to believe in himself.

With lithe grace, Noah stood and moved back to her side of the fire. It was fate, he told himself, what happened next. It was not up to him, or her. Perhaps it was this place, Uther's tower. He slipped his arm about her and drew her in against his body and his warmth. She was shaking, and he murmured in sympathy, and put his other arm about her, so that he could hold her tight against his chest. When she still shook he lifted her onto his lap, and held her there, curled within his arms. Her damp hair tickled his nose and he burrowed into it, enjoying her fragrance.

"Am I still sweet?" he asked her at last, more for something to ease the awkward moment than because he needed to know.

Rachel managed a giggle, and he felt her icy fingertips creep up and flutter against his cheek. "Of course, Noah. You will always be s-sweet. To m-me."

He looked down at her with a raised brow. She smiled, her face pale and naked within the heavy mass of her her hair young. Vulnerable. Defenseless. And yet her body was so soft curled against his; he could feel her breasts though the cloak, where they pressed against his arm he had wrapped about her. the nipples were hard little nubs from the cold. He wanted to warm them with his mouth.

He closed his eyes, but that was no good either. He could feel the soft roundedness of her bottom resting upon his groin. In a moment she would feel him growing hard. But he couldn't help it. He should move away from her, but he didn't want to. She felt so good, and he didn't want to.

"Noah?"

She sounded uncertain. He opened his eyes and found her gazing up at him, and now Noah understood what the warning deep inside him had been about. And realized that he should have heeded it. But it was too late.

Rachel knew it too, her brown eyes clouded as they gazed into his, and she opened her mouth to speak. To tell him no? Noah did not know. He was already bending down to claim her lips.

If she had been about to refuse him, she had changed her mind, because before he reached her mouth she had lifted her own, when they joined their lips together, it was mutual. And this time there would be no stopping.

**A/N: sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long. The next chapter would be very…hot…or that's what I think. Lemme know what you thought of this chapter! Until next time (:**


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